


Closer (Progressing Fixation)

by Bre



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 21:11:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4720589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bre/pseuds/Bre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Oliver slaps Felicity’s ass, and one time she slaps his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It started out so innocently…

**Author's Note:**

> So this came about because [doubledeez06](http://doubledeez06.tumblr.com/) had hilarious tags, and then [nikkibeckettcsm](http://nikkibeckettcsm.tumblr.com/) tagged me in it, and then a bunch of you glorious jerks peer-pressured me (in the best way possible, I love it, I really do). Thank you to [smoakd](http://smoakd.tumblr.com/) for listening to me babble! This also turned into a somewhat Dominant!Oliver, so there’s that, although I left most of the submissive stuff out (this time).

Felicity dropped her tray on the bar, hooking her arms on it and lifting herself up, dancing on the tips of her toes. Her feet were _killing_ her. This was not what she signed up for, not even a little, and yet… here she was. Because she couldn’t say _no_. Actually, it was that Oliver had said no to her going in undercover, and that had just pissed her right off.

So she only had herself to blame, not that she was going to admit that to anyone, much less Oliver; that didn’t mean she still couldn’t bitch about it.

“First night, babe?” the bartender asked, leaning toward her on the bar, hunching over so they were eye-level. 

She offered him a tight smile, nodding. “That obvious?”

“You’ve got that wide-eyed rabbit look,” he replied, giving a quick nod to a patron who waved their empty beer bottle at him. Felicity slowly raised her eyebrows, mentally rewinding his words, making sure she’d heard him correctly. He snatched a full bottle, popping the top in one smooth motion. He slid it down the bar before glancing back at her. He grinned. “Now you look like you want to pop me one. That’s good. You’ll need that in this place.”

“Oh, isn’t that lovely,” Felicity murmured under her breath, glancing around. 

The bar was full tonight, almost every single table brimming with intoxicated testosterone balls that masqueraded as men; at least most of the clientele in this particular bar were a little better than the ones she’d had the not-so-pleasure of encountering when she worked with her mom in Vegas. Most of the men here were at least cordial and respectful - they kept their hands to themselves with the ‘no-go’ zones and were polite to the girls in the private rooms. 

Still, there were always a few assholes… and she was waiting for one asshole in particular.

Oliver and Diggle had yet to get in.

The bartender patted her arm, bringing her attention back to him. “It’s intimidating, I know, but we’ve got strict rules in this place. If anyone gives you shit, come tell me. We got a special room just for them.”

Felicity smiled - a real smile, because while Morrison was a literal gorilla of a man and kind of smelled like one too, he was sweet, and she’d heard from the other girls that he didn’t mess with them - always a plus - and he didn’t put up with rudeness in his bar; it was exactly what she was banking on.

“Thanks, Morrison,” Felicity said, pulling herself up on the bar to give him a kiss on the cheek - Vanessa said he liked that - while squeezing her arms together to press her breasts forward - Vanessa said he liked that too. The sparkle in his eye when she pulled back told her Vanessa was right. Her part of the plan was coming along just fine.

He winked and she ducked her head playfully. 

Felicity looked around, not having to feign feeling overwhelmed. “Is it always this busy on a Tuesday?”

Morrison shook his head, wiping down the bar. “Special night.” He didn’t elaborate. “You got any orders for me?”

"No," she said, shaking her head, putting her full weight on her quickly-becoming-numb feet with a wince. “Although I wouldn’t say no to a bottle of tequila all my own.”

Morrison smirked. His eyes flew around the bar before he picked up a bottle of El Jimador and flipped over a shot glass. Before Felicity could explain she was _working_ \- not just the carting-condensating-beers-around kind of working, but working-undercover-to-expose-evil-deeds kind of working - and that drinking on the job was sort of frowned on the last time she checked, he had the alcohol poured and was sliding it to her.

“Drink up before the honchos see you,” he said with a wink. She didn’t move for a split second and he raised an eyebrow. “If you won’t, I will.”

She hadn‘t been _serious_. 

She wasn’t much of a tequila person… but her feet _were_ killing her, Diggle and Oliver were still stuck in the line outside - they had to have been standing outside for at least two hours - and if one more guy caressed her thigh or wrapped an arm around her hips with fingers that were a little too wander-y, she was going to scream.

Felicity slammed the liquor in one gulp. She winced as it burned a heady path down her gullet, paving a trail of fire straight into her stomach.

“Thatta girl.” She made a face and Morrison chuckled before his eyes danced over her shoulder. He nodded out to the open floor. “You got a few new fellas in your section.”

Biting back the groan, Felicity took a deep breath - just a few more hours, that’s all - and looked over her shoulder to scan her section.

Her eyes immediately found Oliver’s.

For a split second, everything stopped.

The dance music overhead faded away, the bar disappeared; she no longer felt the six-inch stilettos - the ones actually given to her as part of the waitress uniform - or the fishnet stockings that were starting to chafe her thighs or the ridiculous corset-like contraption that signaled she was a waitress and was only available for the private rooms when it was break time.

She only saw Oliver… 

And the way he was looking at her.

He hadn’t seen her outfit before the mission started.

Part of her taking this job was contingent on her _not_ being one of the girls who explored the private rooms - despite that making the most sense since it would give them the access they needed, but Oliver had nixed it the second it came up. When she explained he was the only one she’d even entertain going in the back with, he’d still nixed it… and he’d nixed it again later that night, over and over, eventually leaving her with two hickeys the size of Texas on her breast and hip, ensuring there was no way she’d be taking anything off for anyone but him.

Not that she even _would have_ \- mission or not - but he didn’t need to know that.

So, waitressing it was then.

The second she’d seen what she was going to have to wear though… well, the less he'd had to know, the better. 

Felicity stayed still, watching him. 

She was no longer in the bar, surrounded by a sea of males, holding a sticky tray. 

It was just them.

Heavy eyes dragged down her body, taking in the strapless corset, the thin bikini bottoms that tied at her hips, the fishnets that did pretty spectacular things to her legs, and the stripper stilettoes… she felt it like an actual caress. Felicity swallowed, unable to stop her body from tightening in anticipation at the heat she saw.

But when his eyes found hers again… 

He was _unhappy_.

Felicity blinked… and then she chuckled humorlessly - _he_ was the unhappy one? 

Snorting under her breath, Felicity picked up her tray and sauntered over, tossing a little more swing in her step as she made her way over to her new patrons. He watched her hips sway, his stare growing more heated as his eyes slid down her legs again - she knew how much he loved her calves in heels.

Felicity walked up the three steps to where their table was, and when his eyes met hers again, they were darker, his lids hooded.

“Hi.” She cocked her head, balancing the tray in the crook of her waist. “How’re you boys tonight?”

“Fine,” Oliver replied slowly, his voice low and _tight_ , like he wanted nothing more than to punch someone.

Because of what she was _wearing_.

_Seriously?_

Before she could stop herself, Felicity met his eyes challengingly. It was a combination of her feet killing her, being groped by strangers left and right and having to do a job that she vowed she’d never do again the second she turned eighteen that made something inside her snap at the look on his face, made her throw caution to the wind as she raised an annoyed eyebrow.

He raised his own, his eyes snapping with questions and fire.

It only amped up her own ire.

Felicity bit her lip - knowing exactly what that looked like with the dark red lipstick she was wearing - and stepped closer, planting her free hand on the table. She leaned in, giving him an ample view of her cleavage; his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared as she invaded his personal space and whispered, “You know, it’s a little loud in here, I've been needing to get real close to everyone to hear what they're saying. Can you repeat it?”

Oliver’s eyes narrowed, and she grinned.

Her triumph was short lived though.

Oliver moved before she could get away, shifting just enough to slip his hand between her legs. Felicity gasped in surprise and he gripped her inner thigh _hard_ , digging his fingers in. Her body yearned towards him, her eyes fluttering shut as a burst of heat erupted in the pit of her stomach.

He slid a little higher.

He was so _close_ …

Everything inside her clenched with awareness - with _desire_ \- as he touched her with a familiarity that took her breath away. There was something strangely erotic about him touching her like that, in public - he knew exactly where to touch her, how to touch her, to make her _melt_. 

Felicity bit the tip of her tongue, her breathing growing a little heavier.

They both knew _exactly_ what that hand was capable of.

It was his turn to look smug.

Oliver moved up further, his fingers dragging over her fishnets teasingly.

"Oliver…" she breathed.

“Nice outfit,” he whispered, his eyes growing even darker - with _possession_ , she realized, her breath hitching - and she flushed, the room starting to grow a little too hot. One of his fingers slid through a hole in the fishnets, very close to where he’d had them buried just a few hours before this stupid night started, and he tugged - _hard_. The material dug painfully into her _everywhere_ , and she gasped. “Did you know you had to dress up like this?”

“Yes,” Felicity replied breathlessly. She gave him a small knowing smile, and his heated look morphed into a glare. When he didn’t do anything else but stare at her, his eyes promising a _very_ pointed talk later, she pulled back, clearing her throat. She looked up, finally noticing that Diggle had turned his back to them a while ago. “Took you two long enough. I don’t think you guys appreciate how _painful_ these shoes are.”

Oliver glanced at her feet, his face darkening with a lurid interest that made her stomach drop, and he slowly - _slowly_ \- raised his eyes up again… but the only thing he did was grasp her thigh tighter.

“Didn’t realize the bets brought in such a crowd,” Diggle said in a low voice, bringing them both back to their current situation.

Oliver’s hand slipped away as Digg’s eyes flickered over the room, mentally making notes of the exits, the warm bodies working the floor, the men slowly filling it.

Felicity took a step back, shaking off the effects of Oliver’s hand - all he had to do was _touch_ her and she was a blubbering mess - and took the opportunity to glance around again, noticing another group of men coming in.

“Yeah, if we don’t get back there before they start, we won’t be able to get trackers on the crates, so…” She turned back to them with a smile, and wiggled her tray, raising her voice. “You boys thirsty?”

“Whatever’s on tap for me, sweetheart,” Diggle replied, raising his voice too.

Felicity nodded in acknowledgment and looked at Oliver.

“Same for me,” he said, his voice still low, rough. Felicity shivered. It was the same voice he used when he was… _aggravated_ , usually because of something she’d done. They stared at each other for a heavy moment, the room going still again… before she remembered _why_ they were there.

It wasn’t just to torture him with her uniform, or for him to torture her with that look in his eyes.

He was supposed to be doing his part - playing the obnoxious billionaire playboy he’d once been - but he was definitely _not_ , and a dark brooding boyfriend wasn’t going to get them very far.

Felicity paused, waiting. He still didn’t do anything and she narrowed her eyes. 

Was he actually going to make her go get the drinks and bring them back?

_Ass_.

Oliver smirked, like he could read her mind… and then he made his move. 

He wrapped his arm around her hips and tugged her forcefully into his side, making Felicity stumble, nearly falling into his lap. He ran his hands all over her, drifting down her naked thighs and up her corseted waist, brushing over her breasts. Felicity gasped, her eyes squeezing shut for a minute, fighting the urge to arch into him, fighting her body’s reaction to the familiar touch.

Instead, she looked to see if Morrison was paying attention.

He was.

_Cause a scene, yell, throw your tray… Do something, Smoak!_

“Felicity…” Oliver tugged her into his lap, pulling her attention back to him, sliding his hand up her chest and around her neck. He gripped her jaw, pressing his face into her hair, his lips finding her ear.

“Do you have any idea,” he whispered, his tongue darting out to flick her earlobe. Felicity whimpered, unable to stop herself from pressing against him. “What watching you walk around dressed like that is doing to me?” His voice was low and gritty again, and she shuddered, her eyes fluttering shut as his fingers caressed her jaw. “I’m going to rip those fishnets off you when we get home.”

“Oliver…” she whispered, her voice cracking. 

He slid his other hand down over her hip and back across her ass, pushing his fingers into the fishnets. He _yanked_ … Felicity moaned, jerking in his arms, and he smirked, nipping at her ear one more time before pulling back.

“How about you and I slip into the back for a more… _private_ dance,” Oliver said, raising his voice to be heard over the music. When she didn’t react, her mind still fogged with thoughts of _other things_ , he reached up and tweaked her nose.

He _tweaked_ her nose.

“Hey!” Felicity snapped, jerking back, but he didn’t let her go.

Oliver ran his other hand down her side salaciously, balancing her on one knee, his eyes slipping all over her like he was _appraising_ her, and then he licked his lips, his words covered in innuendo. “I bet you give a really good _lap_ dance, don’t you?”

“Oliver, oh my god,” Felicity gasped under her breath.

“You’re not supposed to like this,” he whispered in amusement, and she furrowed her brow - he was right, what was she doing? Oliver tweaked her nose _again_ , and her glare this time was very real. “Whaddya say? How about you take me in the back, huh? Show me a good time… I pay _real well_ , sweetheart, to see what that pretty little mouth can do.”

The vulgar words worked.

A fiery rush of fury seared her chest.

Felicity bit her tongue to stop herself from saying what she _wanted_ to say, and instead gave him a saccharine sweet smile, remembering the party line. 

“Thank you for the offer, sir, but I’m not available for private dances.” Oliver raised his eyebrows, mouthing, ‘Sir?’ at her and she made a face, pushing off him. “Now if you’ll kindly excuse me-” 

“Whoa, whoa, hold on a second,” Oliver said, holding her tight, keeping her pinned to his chest. She bit back a moan at the show of force - she wasn’t supposed to _like_ this. “I’m not letting you go until you promise me a dance.”

“I suggest you find somebody who’s actually interested,” Felicity said, pushing off him again but he held fast. She gritted her teeth. “Sir. Please.” 

“I like that,” Oliver said quietly with a wink and Felicity flushed, blinking rapidly, unable to explain the sudden rush that filled her ears at his words… or the way her skin felt like it was going to burn off from the idea of what he was saying… or that her heart was _racing_ … 

Oliver pushed her to her feet. 

“Alright, fine," he said, giving Diggle a sidelong glance. "I like it when they play hard to get." Diggle forced a chuckle that sounded way too fake as Oliver looked back to her. "How about you go fetch those drinks, huh? Make the walk worth it, I like seeing what my prize'll be." 

_My prize_.

The words - the _promise_ in the words - was a heady rush that she felt all the way down to her toes.

Oliver pushed her away again and when she stumbled a bit, he steadied her with a hand on her hip, that same damned amusement coloring his words as he said for her ears only, “You okay there?”

“No,” Felicity snapped, taking a deep breath, not really enjoying the rush of blood chugging a million miles an hour through her veins in this place of all places. 

What was he doing to her? 

She forced herself to glance back at Morrison. He was keeping an eye on her, but he didn’t look overly concerned anymore. He even went back to fixing up a tray for one of the other waitresses.

Damn it.

“You need to do more,” Felicity hissed, making a show of fixing her hair. “Stop _toying_ with me.”

“Toying?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ve been getting grabbed all night, Oliver, did you-” 

His face instantly darkened. “What?” 

“Did you really think you’d just have to do _that_?” she asked, dropping her tray so it slapped against her thigh. “That isn’t exactly the opposite of the norm around here, Oliver.” Her words only made his face grow darker, slipping into the frighteningly blank look he got when he used to put on his Arrow suit. It didn’t faze her in the least. “Yeah, you’re being _coy_ compared to the others. Step up your game.”

Diggle chortled.

When Oliver didn’t move, Felicity huffed out a, "Fine," before bringing her tray back up, forcing a smile back to her face. “I’ll just go get your drink now. _Sir_.”

His eyes narrowed , and she turned to leave…

Oliver slapped her ass - _hard_ \- making her yelp.

The sound rang throughout the bar, causing several of the tables nearby to look up at them. 

Felicity gasped, shock freezing her… before a wave of heat washed over her, emanating from the handprint he’d just left on her ass. It shot through her, heading straight for her core as an intense rush of warmth climbed up her body, making her skin tingle, a surge of wetness dampening her panties…

Did he really just _slap_ her?

And did she like it?

She vaguely heard Morrison shouting something as she turned to look back at Oliver.

She wasn’t sure what he saw on her face, but the instant she looked at him, his entire demeanor _changed_ \- he’d always been able to read her like an open book, much to her annoyance; that was her thing with him, it wasn’t supposed to be other way around - and she could only imagine what he saw to make his eyes narrow the way they did, for him to lick his lips…

Oliver’s eyes never left hers as Morrison came barging up the stairs, using his bouncer voice, telling him to get up, that he’d broken the house rules… blah blah blah… 

Felicity barely heard the rest as Morrison yanked Oliver out of his chair with a little too much force and pulled him past Felicity.

Oliver didn’t look the least bit ruffled, Morrison clenching his jacket in tight fists as he pulled him towards the back of the club. 

Oliver’s eyes never left Felicity’s - it didn’t matter how dark the room was or how many people stood between them… she still saw them darkening.

With promise.

_To be continued…_


	2. It happened again, two days later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this so far, the response has been amazing! I'm super behind on responding to comments (I usually do those while I'm at work... because I'm a great employee). 
> 
> This is a shorter excerpt... remember, it's about the _progression_ of this new fixation...

Felicity stood at one of her computers, frowning as she stared at several lines of code. There was an anomaly somewhere… she just had to _find it_. 

She bent over, propping herself on her elbows, cocking her hips as she narrowed her eyes, watching the lines, waiting to see the irregularity…

She didn’t realize he was there. 

She didn’t feel his eyes on her, or hear him as he came up behind her, too intent on the computer screen…

The slap came out of nowhere.

He hit her right across both cheeks with so much force she shot up abruptly, a sharp yell falling from her throat, her hands flying back to cover the already hot spot. She turned with a sharp, “Oliver, are you freaking kidding me?” - she was _still_ upset about him slapping her ass in that bar in the first place - but her words died the instant she saw he was _right there_.

Oliver yanked her against his chest, his lips slanting over hers, cutting her off.

The kiss was hot and hard, full of so much need and heat it made her whimper. He plundered, taking everything before she even had a chance to comprehend what was happening; his demanding insistence overwhelmed her, left her reeling… 

Something deep inside her switched off. 

Felicity melted against him and Oliver growled his approval, the noise rumbling through his chest as she _submitted_ to him.

Oliver’s hands dropped down, shoving hers out of the way. He gripped her ass _tightly_ , making her yelp as he pulled her off her feet, his firm grip irritating the absolute hell out of the sensitive skin he’d just slapped. He swallowed her cry, kissing her harder, his rough grip tightening even more, sending a shot of white hot pleasure coursing through her.

Felicity whimpered, her body reacting as if he’d just shoved his hand down her panties.

She grappled with his shirt, wrapping an arm around his neck, kissing him with equal ardor, knowing with a core-deep certainty that she’d do _anything_ he asked her to right then.

But before she could get her fill, before she could chase the toe-curling pleasure unfurling deep inside her… Oliver pulled back. 

Felicity gasped for air, opening her eyes in time to see him licking his lips. 

_Oh god_ … 

Her stomach clenched with a painful need for _more_ , to feel his tongue on her - licking, sucking, _tasting_ \- to feel his fingers filling her, to feel _him_ filling her… 

A heady surge of arousal flooded her sex as he dropped her back on her feet

Oliver ran his hands over her ass lovingly, squeezing one more time, causing her hips to jerk against his, against the very evident bulge in his jeans.

“Hi,” he said with a grin and a wicked gleam in his eye.

“Hi,” she replied in a daze. 

He kissed her one more time, with just as much demanding force before it abruptly changed into something light and chaste. He pulled back with a content smile, brushing his cheek over hers, his stubble scraping her suddenly very tender skin. Oliver pressed himself against her, pulling her flush against him, letting her feel his arousal for her…

“Oliver,” she gasped, her eyes fluttering shut...

And then he let her go, turning without another word, going back about his business, leaving her standing there, staring after him, her body throbbing, her ass _aching_. 

_To be continued..._


	3. And then it escalated...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with everything I post in parts, I keep changing everything I've already written. As a result, this keeps gaining more and more D/s undertones. Oops.
> 
> (Added to this when I woke up this morning - all mistakes are a result of my messy brain!)

The smell of coffee floating in the air woke her. 

Felicity hummed her approval, the rich aroma filling the bedroom. It smelled so good - coffee good, so good… bed was good, but coffee was better. And Oliver made good coffee.

She rolled out of bed, tugging her tank top back in place and righting her shorts before she blindly made her way out of the bedroom. She didn’t pause to check her reflection, or to make sure she wasn’t sporting any wacky overnight pimples. 

She only cared about coffee. 

And boyfriend.

Boyfriend was good.

Felicity hadn’t heard him come in last night. She’d been too tired from her day job to stay up, despite trying - it’d been meeting after meeting after meeting, and then a few more on top of that well into the night, trying to get the new Applied Sciences division up and running as it had been when the company had been Queen Consolidated.

She fumbled into the kitchen, heading straight for the coffeemaker.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Oliver said from the stove, and she grunted, brushing hair out of her face, tugging the coffeepot out. She pulled a mug off a hook and filled it, not bothering with cream or sugar yet, she just needed… 

She took a sip, and let out a happy sigh. 

_So good._

Felicity finished half the cup before looking up again, slightly more aware of her surroundings.

Oliver stood at the stove, shirtless, a hand towel thrown over one shoulder, his back muscles moving as he stirred stuff in three different pans. It smelled absolutely divine, and her stomach growled its agreement. She glanced around sleepily, finally seeing the rest of the kitchen. 

She blinked at a bowl of fresh fruit and a new loaf of bread sitting out on the center island. Felicity moaned under her breath and, bringing her coffee with her, went right for a strawberry.

She didn’t even see him move, didn’t see him grabbing the towel or setting his spatula down… she didn’t realize he knew exactly what she was doing as she picked the strawberry up, and…

With a flick of his wrist, Oliver snapped the hand towel right at her ass; it licked a thin line of fire over one cheek, making her yelp. Her hips jerked against the island, the strawberry slipping from her fingers, landing back in the bowl with a dull plop. Felicity flushed at the noise she’d just made, dropping her mug with too much force to rub the stinging spot, gasping at the dull throbbing.

That _hurt_.

“Ow,” she whimpered, turning accusatory eyes on him.

“No touching.” Oliver came up beside her, a smile on his lips. He nuzzled his face into her neck, dropping a chaste kiss to her pulse point. “That’s for breakfast.”

She made an indistinguishable noise… and reached for it again. 

Oliver’s palm landed on her ass with a light slap, just enough for her to pause. 

“Fe-li-ci-ty…” he said, dragging her name out deliberately, humor lacing his words. “No touching.”

Maybe she was still half-asleep… or she hadn’t had enough coffee… or she was too tired to put on her usual show of not liking it when he slapped her, but it was a little too hard at that very moment to ignore the very pleasurable _thrum_ radiating from the spots he’d hit - she didn’t _want_ to ignore how good it felt.

Felicity reached for the strawberry again, knowing full well what she was bringing on herself. 

She picked it up with deliberate slowness and when he didn’t stop her, she brought it to her mouth. Felicity turned her head towards him as she took a large bite, sending a thin stream of juice slipping past her lips and down her chin. 

She caught the juice with her pinkie, moaning softly…

_Tauntingly._

Felicity barely had time to comprehend the way his eyes darkened, or the way his lips parted in a needy pant that melted into a guttural, “Fuck, Felicity,” before he slapped her ass again.

_Hard._

She yelped louder this time as pain radiated through her backside, the strawberry falling into her coffee with a wet splash… but she didn’t notice because he slapped her _again_ \- no, he was _spanking_ her - on the other cheek, the hit slicing right through her thin shorts as if they weren’t even there. 

“Ow, hey!” she shouted, the pain doing a helluva better job waking her up than the coffee was doing. She tried to cover herself, gasping out a chastising, “Oliver!” but he was already sliding behind her. His sweats scraped across her sensitive skin and she choked out a pain cry before his hands gripped her ass tightly. Her skin felt like it was on _fire_ , his grip making the burn worse, and she cried out, her hands scrambling for something to hold on to.

Oliver leaned over her, shoving the dishes out of the way before he bent her over the wood, spreading her cheeks - the pain seared across her nerves, making her nipples pebble achingly as a rush of desire pooled between her legs. The pleasure that shot through her was shocking, leaving her reeling as he massaged her ass, right where he’d slapped - no, _spanked_ \- her… 

It _hurt_ , so much that tears burned her eyes.

But at the same time…

Felicity couldn’t stop the rough moan that slipped from her throat, or the shudder of pleasure that wracked her body as he touched her.

Oliver shoved his growing erection against her ass, right between her spread cheeks. 

“Felicity,” he whispered, rubbing himself against her, irritating the sore skin as he draped himself over her back. One hand dug right into the spot he’d slapped, making her body clench with a wild need while his other slipped around and into her shorts. “That wasn’t very nice.” 

She shivered at his words, at the censure… at the _promise_.

His fingers slipped through her ample wetness, and she keened as he instantly found her swollen clit.

She was so ready for him, so wet…

“Oh god… Oliver,” she whispered. His fingers swirled through her juices, spreading them… “Yes…” And then he stopped. Felicity whined, trying to move her hips but he kept her still, not moving, not giving her what she needed. “Oliver, please…”

“Do you like it when I spank you, Felicity?” he asked, his lips right against her ear, his voice low and carnal. 

The words sent a shocking streak of heat through her, temporarily immobilizing her.

What?

Did she like it?

Her gut reaction was to say, _“No.”_

Because people didn’t actually _like_ being hit like that, did they? When she’d waitressed in Vegas with her mom, how many jerks had slapped her ass, thinking just because she wore a short skirt it meant she was asking for it? _Too many._

No…

No, of course not. It _hurt_ , why would someone _like_ that?

But when he did it… 

When he was the one doing it…

Felicity moaned under her breath, her sex clenching.

Did she really like it when he hit her, when he slapped her ass, when he _spanked_ her?

_Yes_.

Was that weird? She’d never been into this sort of thing before - she hadn’t even known she was into this thing, not until he’d hit her in that club, not until he’d slapped her ass again yesterday…

_“Do you like it when I spank you, Felicity?”_

_Yes._

A surge of arousal flooded her sex, drenching his fingers, and she knew he felt it too. He inhaled sharply, holding her tighter

“Felicity…” She shuddered at the low level of command in his tone. He wanted an answer, and he wasn’t going to do anything until he got one. “Answer me.”

“I…” She swallowed with uncertainty. Did he like it? What if he didn’t… what if she did and he didn’t? He waited, giving her time, and she knew he’d wait until she was ready, even if that meant they were there for five hours, even if that meant breakfast was burned. Did she like it? “I don’t… I don’t know. D-do you like it?”

“This isn’t about me,” he said softly. “This is about you.” He moved slightly, his finger grazing her clit. She gasped. “Only you… because I think…”

Oliver suddenly moved from behind her and his palm came down on her ass, hard.

“Oliver!” she shouted - in surprise, in pain or because she wanted more, she wasn’t sure… not until he did it again. 

Oliver spanked her, once on each cheek, in such quick succession she barely had time to react. The sound of his palm hitting her ass - _spanking her_ \- sounded through the kitchen, echoing her cries of, “Yes!” as the heavy hits sent rivulets of pain pulsing through her system, flooding her senses, pushing her clit right against his fingers. 

The assault was too much, too much for her to handle, and before she could comprehend what she was doing that same sensation she’d felt yesterday took over, something inside her clicking off…

Felicity surrendered to him, completely, and he took over _everything_ …

He _felt_ it - he _knew_ the second she gave herself over - and Oliver suddenly draped himself over her again and started rubbing her clit, hard and fast. Felicity shouted his name, sensation overwhelming every inch of her, wetness drenching his fingers as he rubbed, his hips thrusting gently against her tender skin, the soft material of his sweats feeling like fire licking at her skin where he’d spanked her.

Felicity cried out, trying to move for more friction, but he kept her still, kept her pinned down. The inability to move, to do anything but _feel_ sent her desires soaring higher… she didn’t have to say or do anything anymore for him to know what she needed and he pressed his hand down harder, causing her pleasure to swell even more rapidly.

She was so primed, so wet, so eager… so _ready_ , and not just from his fingers in her shorts, or his soft words… but from him _spanking_ her.

Her release was on her in a split second. 

Felicity gasped, clawing at the island, her hips jerking as much as they could against his fingers in quick hard thrusts, the aching pain from her sore cheeks, the feel of his stubble scraping her bare shoulder, her toes aching as she lifted herself up to get closer… her voice carried through the apartment as she rode his hand, as he rotated his hips against her, stoking the pain, sending her higher… 

She grasped at the counter for leverage, bowing her head, concentrating on only him, on the way he touched her, how good it felt, how he made everything feel _so good_ …

Oliver suddenly squeezed her aching ass, sending a spike of pain straight for her center.

“Oh god,” she choked, the pain only adding to her pleasure, heightening it… higher and higher… 

He shifted over and he spanked her _again_ , sending heat streaking through her in a way that had her shouting. He did it one more time, his palm landing heavily across both cheeks, and Felicity jerked up, gasping for air, gasping for him to not stop, for _more_ , her entire body stiffening she hit her peak…

“Yes…! Yes, yes, yes… oh god, Oliver,” she whimpered, the words disappearing in a loud cry as she chased her release, riding his fingers, her clit growing tighter, more of her arousal coating his fingers… “Oliver… please…!”

She was so close…

“Come for me, Felicity….”

She gasped, her entire body clenching.

_Please…_

“Felicity… come for me… _now_.”

Oliver spanked her again, right on the side of her ass, a hit that radiated through her like wildfire, and the pain sent her right over the edge.

With a rough shout, Felicity came _hard_ , the orgasm roaring through her with a keenness that left her spinning. He kept rubbing, urging more out of her, and he slapped her again, making her jerk up off the counter with a wild yell that their neighbors probably heard.

She felt like she was floating, like she was flying, the wicked combination of pain and pleasure setting her blood on fire, chasing everything way but him…

“One more,” he whispered in her ear and she shook her head, her voice failing her as she mouthed, “I can’t, I can’t,” but he didn’t stop… he kept rubbing, more and more, harder and harder…

He hit her one more time and she came again, the orgasm feeling like a paper thin knife slicing through her center, peeling her from the inside out. She vaguely heard shouting, vaguely felt Oliver’s arm banding around her waist to keep her from falling as she soared, losing a hold on everything but him, on the pleasure he was giving her… 

Felicity finally collapsed against the island. 

She tried to catch her breath, tried to remember how to get oxygen into her body as every inch of her _throbbed_.

Oliver leaned over her, pressing her further into the counter, the heavy hard bulge pushing against her ass, making her whimper. He nuzzled the side of her face, his lips ghosting over the shell of her ear before he whispered, “I think you do like being spanked.”

She whimpered helplessly.

“Don’t touch the strawberries,” he said, and she shuddered at the demand.

He was telling her to not touch the strawberries. He’d _spanked_ her for touching the strawberries.

A tiny streak of rebellion lit up in the pit of her stomach, and it was almost like he _knew_. 

“Felicity?” 

She could hear the smile in his voice - he was _enjoying_ this, the bastard. She didn’t respond, still trying to catch her breath, and he suddenly gripped her ass hard, sending pain coursing through her. She jerked up with a sharp cry.

“Say it.”

“I won’t touch the strawberries,” she gasped and he hummed his approval - that tiny little noise had a cascade of warmth streaming through her, filling her with the oddest sense of satisfaction.

Any thought of doing the complete opposite of what she’d just said fled, and she knew she wasn’t going to touch a strawberry.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” he said softly. 

Oliver pulled himself off her, his hand slipping out of her panties. Felicity stayed where she was - she didn’t have the energy to _move_ , much less get up and do something draining like _walk_ somewhere. He didn’t go far though. He slid the hand he’d used to spank her - it was still hot, from the friction of hitting her - up under her tank and along her spine, making her shiver. His calloused hand slipped over to her side, sprawling over her ribs possessively as his lips found her ear again.

“I do like spanking you, Felicity,” he whispered, and she inhaled sharply, a streak of desire spiking through her. “And I definitely like how much you like it.”

Oliver pulled himself off her, turning back to the stove.

Felicity turned to watch him as he stepped back up to the stove to finish cooking breakfast. When he licked his fingers with a satisfied moan, she groaned, her body clenching, and he chuckled.

_To be continued..._


	4. After that, she asked him…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience with this little series! I had something drafted, but it didn't fit with what I wanted from this part. This one has a little more talking, a little more exploring, and it introduces the end of the series.
> 
> Thank you for the support and kudos/comments, they mean so much!

"Are we ever going to talk about it?" 

The words were out before she could stop them. 

Felicity bit her lip, making a little face, fighting the urge to burrow her way back into her pillow. 

Oliver paused where he was getting dressed for his run, his brow furrowed, a frown pulling at his lips.

"Talk about what?" he asked, dropping his sweats, leaving him in nothing but a black t-shirt and his boxers. He crawled back onto the bed, scooting until he was back in his spot, facing her, his head pillowed on his hand. 

Felicity sucked on her lip, unsure how to broach the subject. 

It'd been on her mind... alright, that was an understatement, it'd definitely been _more_ than on her mind. It was all she’d been thinking about, mostly because her butt had been so sore that she'd winced doing just about anything, much to Oliver's delight, who’d taken to patting her ass whenever she was near him.

He’d seen something in her that she hadn’t even know was there.

Somehow he knew that when his fingers barely grazed her tender ass, heat had pooled in her stomach, that when he patted her - smacking her lightly from behind, sometimes grabbing one of her cheeks just hard enough for her to feel it - it’d made her _throb_ , and she was sure he knew that if he’d pushed his hand up her skirt, he’d have found her panties damp with her wetness.

She didn’t have to tell him because he _saw_ it, much to her chagrin and secret delight.

Felicity chewed on the inside of her lip.

It was the weirdest thing to struggle with.

She didn’t like pain, and she really didn’t think Oliver enjoyed giving pain, and yet…

And yet when he did it, when he was spanking her, when he knowingly tortured her for days afterwards, she _liked_ it. 

_A lot_.

That was something they should talk about, wasn’t it?

Felicity shifted, the sheet falling further down her waist, leaving her bare back open to the cool air in the loft. 

Oliver's eyes darkened, involuntarily sliding down, slipping over her naked shoulder and down to where she had her arms smashed up against her breasts. 

Almost like a shield. 

He really frowned this time and she knew he knew she was being weird. Not that anyone _wouldn't_ know. She was suddenly annoyingly vulnerable and she wished she hadn't said anything. 

Felicity cursed her stupid lack of morning brain filter. She’d just been watching at his hands as he'd gotten ready to go, could anyone honestly blame her? She’d just been… staring at the way they flexed when he’d grabbed his t-shirt, the deftness of his fingers as he’d done something as simple as unfolding his sweatpants, marveling at how big they were, unable to stop herself from remembering how they felt when his hands were on her… 

Really, it was her complete inability to just stop thinking about spanking. 

_Spanking_.

Her life wasn't some freaky BDSM novel, and while Oliver definitely had Dom-like tendencies, he didn't with _her_ \- and she _liked_ that, she _preferred_ that, because she wasn't exactly submissive herself. If anything, she sort of thought of herself as the more dominant in the relationship, but not really at the same time, not in the way that she told him what to do, but in a… weird way?

That didn’t even make _sense_.

This was what she got for looking up spanking online.

Oliver narrowed his eyes and he shifted closer. "Felicity."

_Fe-li-ci-ty._

Despite herself, she shivered.

_“Do you like it when I spank you, Felicity?”_

She felt a tug deep in her core at the memory.

The way he’d talked to her, the way he’d asked her…

_“Felicity…_

_“Answer me.”_

"Hey, look at me," Oliver whispered and she did, her eyes finding his light blue ones. She kept her focus on the dark flecks scattered around his iris as he searched hers. "Talk to me."

“It’s embarrassing,” she replied softly, barely audible, and the only reaction she got was Oliver’s eyebrows sliding up a touch. Otherwise, he waited, and she knew he’d wait for as long as she needed. A surge of love filled her chest at that, warming her from the inside out and she felt it relaxing her muscles, letting her take a deep breath and blow it out slowly. “It’s about… the other day.”

“The other day…” Oliver repeated, waiting for more.

“The other day,” Felicity repeated. “When you… when you were… breakfast-making and…” 

_Breakfast-making?_

She let out a little laugh, shutting her eyes because _what was wrong with her_. This was Oliver, she knew she could tell him anything, they could talk about anything - they _had_ talked about everything and anything - and _hello_ , he’d been the one to initiate it between them in the first place… 

_Still._

Just thinking the word was hard enough, but actually saying them?

“Breakfast-making…” Oliver repeated, scooting even closer.

Felicity opened her eyes and she knew by the look in his that he was more than well aware of what she was referring to.

He was _very_ aware.

She felt her face growing warm, watching his pupils dilate, his lids growing heavy, his jaw tightening as he inhaled slowly.

He was looking at her like he was remembering that morning too.

And he liked it.

The air in her lungs evaporated, a rush of heat washing through her.

“I do remember the breakfast-making,” he whispered, and anticipation filled her chest, making it feel way too full. 

“Right,” Felicity replied breathlessly. “That.”

“What about it?” Oliver asked, his eyes dropping down to watch her lips.

She frowned, making his tick up in a smile.

The jerk knew exactly what he was doing.

_“Say it.”_

Felicity licked her lips again, staring at him, willing herself to say it… but she couldn’t.

_Spanking._

She couldn’t say it.

A heady flush rushed up her chest, and she felt the blush turning her cheeks red as she closed her eyes, ducking her head. 

She was _mortified_ , and she didn’t know _why_. It was stupid because they both knew what she was talking about, and it was obvious that they both liked it for whatever reason they had, and yet she could not bring herself to say that simple word:

_Spanking._

Even thinking it made her stomach twist in knots.

It was the weirdest reaction, followed quickly by the fact that she was well aware of how she was reacting and that she had no idea _why_ she felt this way, or how to get around whatever made her mouth go dry, whatever sent a lump into her throat, cutting off the word.

_Spanking._

She couldn’t say it.

It was so _stupid._

“Felicity,” he said softly, and then he closed the space between them.

Felicity instinctively opened her arms, wrapping them around him as he pushed one under her shoulders, wrapping the other around her back, pulling her flush against him. She pushed herself closer, sighing at the delicious warmth he gave off, curling herself into him as he slid his hand down her naked back and over her ass - he barely touched it, much to her disappointment - and down her leg.

Her nerves tingled with awareness - with _anticipation_ \- as he moved, a rush of gratitude filling her that he just _knew_ , that she didn’t have to say it. 

Her mouth fell open in a needy pant as his fingers slid down, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his path. He brushed them over the sensitive skin of her calf, drawing a lazy circle that made her twitch, her breath hitching, before he hooked them under her knee. 

Oliver pulled her leg up, all the way up until it was over his hip, spreading her open.

Felicity’s center clenched with need, the cool air in the bedroom a sharp contrast to the heat between her legs.

He slowly moved back down the gentle slope of her leg, moving until his hand rested against the back of her thigh. 

And then he stopped.

Felicity arched her back - just thinking about what had happened because of those strawberries was more than enough to get her going; if he wanted to go right then, she was ready - but he didn’t respond, even when she moved her hips enough to brush against the obvious hardness in his boxers.

“Oliver,” she whimpered. He just pulled her into his chest, his nose grazing her chin. “Please…”

“Say it, Felicity,” he said. A streak of heat shot through her. “Tell me what you want.”

“Oliver…”

His hand inched up, his fingers crawling up her thigh to the gentle swell of her ass. Felicity’s breath stuttered, her eyes fluttering shut, her core tightening… but he didn’t do anything. Oliver just slid his hand up along her ass until he was palming it, pushing her closer but not close enough for any friction.

“Please,” Felicity whined.

“Tell me,” he replied. “What do you want me to do?”

“Oliver,” she gasped, arching her back, thrusting her hips against him but he only tightened his grip on her cheek, holding her still. “I need you.”

“I need you too,” he said, lifting his head, pushing his face into her throat, his lips touching on her pulse point, enough to make her shudder, to make her nipples tighten even more where they brushed against the well-worn fabric of his t-shirt. “Always.”

Felicity gripped his hair in tight fists, using her leg to leverage him closer, but he barely budged, his hold on her keeping her in place.

“I’ll do anything you ask me to.”

Oliver dragged his mouth up her throat and over her jaw, kissing his way up to her mouth, his stubble scraping against her deliciously. His lips grazed over hers, wrapping around her lower lip. Felicity moved to kiss him, to _show_ him what she wanted, but he pulled before she could do anything about it. 

Instead, he released his hold on her ass, moving so his fingertips dragged over the sensitive area.

Felicity gasped, the feather-light touch sending a rush of shivers through her body, only making the heat in her core grow hotter.

“Tell me.”

_Say it._

“Felicity…”

He was overwhelming her. He was barely touching her but it felt like he was touching her _everywhere_ and it was sending her thoughts scattering to the wind. 

_Tell me._

Felicity held onto him tighter, her hips moving in tiny little circles, trying to find the friction she so desperately needed. She could feel how wet she was, how chilly the air in the room was when it touched her there, right where she wanted him to touch her. 

The slick juices started slipping down to her inner thigh.

_Tell me._

“I want…” she started, her mouth going dry. He slipped his hand further up, his fingers drifting over the delicate skin on her lower back, making her jerk against him, effectively overriding her brain. “Oh god, I… I want you to spank me.”

Oliver hummed, the vibrations rattling through his chest into hers as he smiled against her lips, but that was it…

Felicity whined, holding him tighter - she’d _told_ him, she’d just told him, what was he…

He slid back down over her ass, his fingers rubbing against her, over and over, almost like he was preparing…

“Oliver, _please_.”

He spanked her, right across the underside of her ass cheek.

Felicity cried out, flinching against the sudden white-hot pain. It was so hot, so brutally hot and it hurt so much, but before she could do anything else but gasp for air, Oliver spanked her again, in the exact same spot.

“Aah!” Felicity shouted, digging her nails into his scalp as she arched away from him but he didn’t let her get far. 

His hand fell against her ass again, moving up just enough to touch on new flesh, and the painful hit radiated through her, making her skin tingle in a sizzling awareness that had something else entirely unfurling inside her. 

He spanked her again, even _harder_.

“Oh god…!” she gasped, her voice strained with pain, her mind blanking out.

He hit her again.

Oh _god_ , it hurt, it _hurt_ , but it felt so… so _good_ at the same time.

He did it again, and the sound she made came out in a breathless, pain-riddled sob as she held onto him as tightly as she dared.

She couldn’t think, she couldn’t do anything but _feel_ , and all she felt was _pain_.

Oliver slid his hand down her crack, slipping his fingers up until he found her wet heat.

He hissed as his fingers slipped through her juices with ease.

“You’re so wet,” he choked, cradling her closer as he pushed two fingers into her from behind, forcing her leg higher even up, spreading her even more.

Felicity could only nod. 

It was all she could do, all she could think to do.

She knew how wet she was, she could feel it in the way he touched her, his fingers curling inside her with ease, a wet squishing noise sounding from between her legs as he thrust his fingers into her, making her mewl his name mindlessly as a slow burning pleasure started to replace the pain. He pushed his fingers in as deep as he could, adding a third as he thrust them into her. 

The way her legs were scissored pinched her clit, sending the pleasure even higher.

She sluggishly started rocking her hips against his hand, his arm brushing over the incredibly sensitive skin on her ass, sending waves of low-burning heat skating over her nerves, the pain somehow making it all… _better_.

She wanted _more_.

She _needed_ more.

“Again,” Felicity gasped, shoving her forehead against his. “Spank me again.”

Oliver didn’t hesitate. He slipped his fingers free of her, wiping them off on her thigh before he moved his hand up over the hot skin. 

He gripped her lightly, just enough to make her cry out, before he pulled back, his hand falling on her with so much force she felt it in her bones.

“Oh god!” she keened, sobbing as the pain amplified the pleasure in a way she’d never felt before. 

It felt so _good_ , it burned so good, she wanted to run away from it as much as she wanted to beg him for more, to never stop.

He hiked her leg higher, practically pulling her on top of him and his hand fell down again, slapping her across both cheeks.

Felicity whimpered, wrapping her leg around him as tight as she could, thrusting her heat against his hard cock. Her clit slid over the hard ridge and she let out a guttural groan, finally getting the delicious, perfect friction she craved. She shoved her hips against his without an ounce of coordination, mindlessly seeking more, holding onto him with everything she had as she chased the steady scorch of pleasure building deep inside her.

“Please, please, please,” she whined, over and over, followed quickly by a sharp, “Yes, yes!” when Oliver gripped her hip, his fingers digging into her ass cheek, making it burn hotter as he tugged her against him, thrusting against her. “Yes…!”

“God, Felicity…”

He brushed right against her clit, sending a shower of pleasure through her that was so _perfect_ it left her breathless.

And then he was gone.

“Oliver,” she gasped, her eyes flying open. “What…?”

He pulled back just enough to shove his boxers down, his hard cock springing free. It brushed against her thigh, leaving a trail of precum in its path, making him hiss and her sigh as she opened herself even more for him. 

She wanted to move, to get up and straddle him, to take his length deep inside her, let him fill her, but he didn’t give her the chance.

Oliver pushed her legs open and gripped himself, pressing the head of his cock up against her sopping core.

They both shuddered, both looking down to watch what he was doing.

He took his sweet time, making her burn even _more_ , pushing the head up past her nether lips to graze over her clit and then back down…

Every inch of her vibrated with need, a need so powerful she started shaking.

Felicity needed him _now_.

“Oliver,” she groaned, gripping the back of his neck in a tight hold.

His eyes flew up to hers. 

“I need you in me,” she moaned. “ _Now_.”

Oliver’s pupils dilated, his body melting against her before he guided himself to her entrance and he thrust up into her.

Felicity’s mouth fell open in a mindless shout, her eyes never leaving his as he filled her completely, the angle changing the way he felt inside her, making her feel more _full_. 

Oliver’s hand slid out from between hem and he grabbed her ass, his fingers digging into where he’d hit her, making her whine for him. 

It was a heady sensation, the combination of him inside her with the raw skin he gripped so tightly.

Oliver thrust his hips forward, pushing himself as deep as he could before he pulled his hand back and spanked her.

Felicity shouted as sensation rained down on her, taking over everything, a white hot pressure at her core becoming the only thing she could focus on. 

He pulled out, barely, and thrust back into her, stretching her and then his hand fell down on her again, the pain-filled pleasure radiating through her in such a vicious blend that it was the only thing that mattered.

Felicity thought she heard loud cries, thought she felt the harsh pain in her nailbeds as she held onto him, his heavy pants against her face, his own moans intermingling with the noises she was making, the steady slap of his hand falling on her ass, on her thigh, across both cheeks as much as he could. She thought she felt him barely moving, that it was her who moved, her hips thrusting wildly against his, riding him as she chased her pleasure, every thrust amplified by the feel of his palm falling down on her…

It was too much, it was way too much - she tried to find something to anchor to, to hold onto, but it was all too much.

_Too much, too much, too much…_

“Come… for me, Felicity,” Oliver grunted desperately. “Come, now… _please_.” 

Felicity gave herself over to it without a second’s hesitation. 

Her orgasm came on without any warning, slamming into her, sending her soaring. 

Pleasure exploded inside her as she thrust against him, the wet sound of her movements barely heard over her cries as she came apart at the seams.

Oliver suddenly rolled her onto her back, almost slipping out of her as she spread herself for him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He braced himself over her and pulled out, thrusting into her with so much force she slid up the bed.

Felicity whined pitifully, holding on, and he slid his hands down to her hips, slipping them underneath her ass where he dug his fingers into her. One cheek had hardly any abuse on it, but the other one… oh god, it _burned_ and Felicity undulated underneath him, not sure if she wanted to get away or if she wanted more.

Oliver held onto her as thrust into her, his grunts of pleasure filling her ears, the bed squeaking with the power of his movements as he chased his pleasure in her, over and over, harder and harder… 

His pelvis slammed against hers, right against her clit, and the mixture of his grip on her ass and the hits on her clit triggered a second orgasm, almost like an aftershock, one that bloomed deep inside her, flowing through every inch of her body in a rush of heat that left her gasping for air, for him, for _anything_ , a guttural moan echoing from deep in her chest as he thrust into her.

“Oh god, oh… _fuck_ ,” Oliver moaned… and then he came, deep inside her, thrusting in one last time, as deep as he could as he spilled into her. Her inner walls sucked in him deeper, urging more out of him until there was nothing left, until all he could do was collapse on top of her, his body wracked with shivers.

A long moment later, Oliver lifted himself off, just barely, and fell to the bed beside her, both of them still gasping for air.

“Oh wow,” Felicity whispered, staring at the ceiling, blinking as the most pleasant numbness she’d ever felt slid through her. “Oh wow.”

“Yeah,” Oliver breathed, nodding. “Yeah.”

He slowly rolled over to face her again.

Felicity could barely move her head to look at him as he pushed himself closer, sliding his arm under her neck, pillowing his head on her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck as he wrapped her up in his arms. 

“Yeah.”

“So,” Felicity said, managing to turn just enough so she was kind of facing him. She could barely _move_. “That happened.”

Oliver chuckled. “It did.”

Felicity concentrated on her heart as it started to slow down, on her breathing slowly evening out. A deep-seated relaxation she’d never felt in her life settled inside her and she sank deeper into the mattress, into his embrace, feeling light as a feather.

 _Wow_.

“I think I like being spanked,” she whispered. 

“Yes,” he hummed, nuzzling her, his words starting to slur a little in that adorably sexy way they did after they had sex sometimes. She always felt a little pride when she heard it, and it never failed to make her grin. “You do.”

“Do you?” she asked absently.

Oliver pulled back slightly and she glanced up at him. 

“Do I like being spanked?” he asked with a little smile and she blushed, huffing.

“That’s… that’s not what I was asking,” she replied. He chuckled again, giving her a chaste kiss. “I meant, do you like… spanking? I mean _doing_ the spanking, do you like it?”

“I like it because you like it.”

“You said that last time and I still have no idea what that means,” Felicity whispered, closing her eyes again, letting her head fall because it was just too hard to keep to do anything else but lie there.

But Oliver pulled back again so he could look her in the eye and she looked up at him again. “I don’t spank you because I enjoy it.” 

Some of the relaxation evaporated as something ridiculously _huge_ filled her chest at his words, making her blush even more because of course she had to like something that he didn’t like, wasn’t that just… 

“But I do like spanking you,” he said.

Felicity furrowed her brow.

_What?_

“I like it because you like it,” he said softly, staring at her. “And you like it _a lot_ , and it turns me on how much you like it.”

She bit her lip, blushing again, but it was different this time - it was deeper, more like a flush as he continued. 

“I love how wet it gets you,” he murmured, his voice growing husky. “The noises you make when I’m spanking you… how hard your nipples get, like they always do when you’re _really_ aroused…”

Felicity stared at him, her chest feeling tight for a very different reason this time as a new brand of heat filled the pit of her stomach.

“You like it, Felicity,” Oliver said. “Which means I like it.”

“Oh… wow.” She nodded, and he cracked a smile at whatever he was seeing on her face. “That’s good then. Because I… I do like it.”

Oliver leaned forward, his lips brushing over hers as he whispered, “I know.”

They kissed, slow and languid, holding each other.

When they finally pulled apart, Oliver moved back down, using her shoulder as a pillow as he curled himself around her, his semi-soft member pushing into her, smearing the remnants of their lovemaking all over her skin.

Felicity ran her nails down his back, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“So,” she said. “Do you… like being spanked?”

“I don’t know,” Oliver replied with a tiny shrug.

Felicity took the quick second to marvel at how _open_ he was, and how incredibly _happy_ it made her feel. 

“I’ve never tried it.”

_To be continued..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked it! Please let me know what you thought, reviews literally feed my soul and muse. :)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like it! 
> 
> Reviews literally feed my soul and muse!


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